Draco Malfoy and the jelly tart that was Voldemort
by DawnRiots
Summary: One day, five-year-old Draco Malfoy decides that he's bored. So he sneaks and peaks his way into the dungeon to have a look at the horrifying, slimy and unhealthy thing his father calls a Lord.


**Authoress Ramble: **I know, I know. It's not funny. It's just wierd. But - had to be written.

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**Draco Malfoy and the jelly tart that was Lord Voldemort**

Draco Malfoy had decided he was a sly little boy. He had also decided that he was too cute to ever be punished. That was of course not completely true, but in the mind of five-year-old Draco, it was. Probably because every time he was punished, it usually included spending a day on his own in his room. This meant that Dobby would bring him biscuits and chocolate. Right now, Draco had cracked the brilliant idea of visiting the old, unhealthy looking thing in their basement. It was called Dark Lord by his father, but to Draco, this foul, smelling, slithering thing was not a Dark Lord and therefore worth teasing.

He was careful to sneak around on his toes, crunched near the walls and looking like he was up to some – uh – _nothing_, no, nothing at all. The Malfoy Manor was a huge square box with three floors and because Draco's rooms were up in the western corner of the Manor, it took quite a while for him to finish all his sneaking and peaking around the corners and open the door to the dungeon. It was cold and damp and dark, but Draco wasn't afraid, because nothing could happen to him, after all he was clearly the cutest child here. That he was the only child around had really nothing to do with anything.

Now Draco had reached that room that he was strictly forbidden to go into (why else would he be here?). He stepped inside and watched the slightly creepy fluid on the floor. It was sticky, slimy, creepy, spooky – and definitely very, very pink. Above the fluid sat an unhealthy – err – something. Draco couldn't really decide what it was, because it didn't look like a man and it was in a blow. It mostly looked like a huge jelly tart. A bright pink, jelly tart.

'Hello,' said Draco and the tart wobbled. 'Aje you the one that let Hajjy Pottej live?'

The tart wobbled furiously, a pair of red eyes appearing in it. The eyes didn't scare Draco; he had grown up with a pet snake that somehow had grown tentacles from places he didn't expect snakes to grow tentacles from. Because Draco was a really intelligent child, he continued to look curious.

'I wondej why you haven't got a cool sca',' he mumbled and stepped closer. 'You could be my new fjiend. Dobby isn't fun anymore. Could I call you Voldie? Or Voldie-poo?'

The tart now wobbled in a way that could easily be described at 'furiously', but since jelly tarts really don't have feelings, it was completely ignored by the little boy.

'Voldie it is,' said Draco. 'But you smell. When did you have a bath? I should have Dobby bjing hot waterjand wash you off.'

This didn't improve the mind, if there was one, inside the jelly tart. Out of pure fury, it seemed to develop a mouth. Since it now had a mouth, a voice, red eyes and the wobbling was without doubt furious; Draco decided that maybe jelly tarts had feelings. Even pink jelly tarts.

'You foolish little boy,' said the pink jelly tart. It made Draco jump slightly. 'Don't you know who I am?'

'Yes, I do,' said Draco eagerly, 'you'je what's jest of the man that let the boy live!'

'Damn you,' cried the jelly tart in a way that probably was meant to scare the living daylight out of you. But since the jelly tart that was Lord Voldemort had a squeaky voice, it was only humorous.

'Tut-tut,' said Draco the way his nanny had used to say. 'You behave.'

The jelly tart, realizing there was not much he could threaten the little boy with wobbled sulkily.

'I'll be back tomojjow,' said Draco. 'Good night, Voldie.'

With that, the five-year-old boy trotted out of there. He used the same indiscrete way of sneaking and peaking his way back to his room and had just changed into his pyjamas when his mother stepped in.

'Hello, Mothej,' said Draco and beamed.

'You're all ready in your pyjamas,' said his mother. 'Good boy!'

'Bjushed teeth,' said Draco. 'Tell a stojy!'

'Soon, dear. What have you been up to today?'

'Sneaked and peaked. Tell a stojy!'

Falling for the demanding of a five-year-old, Narcissa Malfoy sat on the chair next to Draco's bed and began reading him a story. Though all the while, Draco's mind was dwelling on the brightly pink jelly tart that was Lord Voldemort. Tomorrow, he decided, he would get Dobby to wash the smell away.


End file.
